Never Let Me Sew

All the buzz about the new film Never Let Me Go brought to mind yesterday the film of another Kazuo Ishiguro book, The Remains of the Day. What a story. It's got it all - a little intrigue, some nasty politics, a subtle shade of kind-of almost maybe sorta romance (!) and a beautiful setting, the glorious Badminton House in Gloucester, UK. You wouldn't expect less from a film directed and produced by Ismail Merchant and James Ivory. They made some of the loveliest costume dramas on screen including A Room With a View and Howard's End.

now you see where I'm going with this

As lavish as they are, though, Merchant Ivory films have never really made me hungry. It's ironic, considering that Ismail Merchant was a renowned cook, party-thrower and all-round gourmet. Thank goodness that what the films lack, Mr. M made up for in his cookbooks.

On a related note, even though Vlad and I had hit England already on a Kitchen Vacation, I decided that it merited a return trip. Since we hadn't officially taken our kitchen to India either (Mrs. Hal's luggage was just too dang heavy), I felt it was time to get on with that, too. How to combine the two? Well, who better to give us a little London and Mumbai than the sadly departed Ismail Merchant himself, who had homes in both places?

On location, Mr. Merchant clearly wasn't dependent on the craft services table. He threw the best dinner parties anyone in his circle ever attended. He also had decades-long friendships with novelist Ruth Prawer Jhabvala (who wrote many of his screenplays) and with the patron saint of happy cooking, Madhur Jaffrey. That's all I needed to hear back in the early 90s when I started cooking from his book, Ismail Merchant's Indian Cuisine. The recipes were so flavorful and lively that I didn't even mind when in 1994 he reprinted many of its recipes in his new book, Ismail Merchant's Passionate Meals. No book jam-packed with movie stills is all bad, right? I generally distrust books with authors prominently pictured on the cover, but I'll always be a sucker for Ismail Merchant's friendly beaming face.

Vlad, being the friendly beaming eater that he is, cheerfully waved an ax yesterday in support of revisiting the Raj et al and of chicken for dinner again. Hey, we're middle-aged, alright? We need all the low-fat protein we can get. At our age steaks'll kill us (if Vlad doesn't kill them first). So on the menu I put Ismail Merchant's Yogurt Chicken II (Dahi Murgh II), Stewed Eggplant (Baygan ka Bharta) and Savory Onion Rice (Bhuni Piyaz ke Chaaval). I had hoped to make just one simple simmering dish that would give me some sewing time (I'm behind on my effing pinning), but the belly wants what it wants. Mrs. Hal won the toss - sorry Bernie!

Ahh, the eggplant. This is the eggplant recipe that convinces everyone from polite skeptics to Firm Haters that all is forgiven. I think it's because the tannic peel is removed and the bite-sized chunks look better than benign - they look downright appetizing. Oh, and they're delish. That helps.

It's also a very simple recipe. In a deep pot you cook a finely diced onion and a few bay leaves in some veg oil until the onion is soft and translucent. Then you toss in the eggplant chunks, a couple of seeded and chopped tomatoes, a little cayenne, S&P, caraway seeds if you've got them (but leave them out if eggplant's already a hard sell in your house), a little red wine vinegar and some lemon juice and let the lot simmer until the eggplant chunks are tender but still intact. It's earthy, chewy, tangy and subtly spicy all at once - a nice room-temp pickle to serve before dinner (and to have cold with crackers and a cocktail at your next happy hour). Yuh-hum.

The chicken recipe is equally simple. Again, oil, onions (sliced in thin half-rings) and bay leaves go into the pot. You then add skinned chicken thighs and a steady rain of cumin seeds until the meat is speckled. Some thinned plain yogurt mixed with some cayenne, S&P and a chopped tomato makes for a golden-orange simmer sauce that's not really a tomato sauce, but is tangy and faintly coffee-like from the cumin and bay. Heavenly. Sorry that it looks like mucus, but you know my penchant for barfy-looking (but delicious) meals.

you didn't get my good side, did you?

Of course a nice pilaf is essential to sop up all the creamy sauce. Mr. Merchant obliges with his Savory Onion Rice. I had to make a couple of substitutions here but no harm done. For the long-grain rice I subbed in some marvelous white basmati that I'm falling down with because I only buy it in 10 pound reusable tote bags and I can never remember how much is left so I always overbuy. I also didn't have any black cardamon pods on hand (for shame) so I made do with the green ones, which smelled sweet and floral, almost powdery.

Into the pot went a goodly amount of butter (wonderful), a couple of very finely diced onions, and the just good enough cardamon pods. After a few minutes over low heat, I added the basmati, gave it a vigorous buttery stir, added the last of my thawed chicken stock (remind me to make more) and brought it to the boil for a short simmer. Since I had already washed the basmati in seven changes of cold water (until it ran clear - seven is invariably the right number. I don't know why) and soaked it for an additional 30 minutes, the cooking took only ten minutes. The long nutty grains of rice fluffed like a pillow, and the subtle funk of the onions gave the dish an almost vanilla-like roundness.

We had a little of the warm eggplant for apps, and then it was a showtime as good as any costume drama. It wasn't dinner & a movie - it was more like dinner as a movie. We had it all. Vlad hunted for his missing phone (a little intrigue), we talked about a pending liquor sales initiative slated for the Washington state fall ballot (some nasty politics), Vlad complimented me on the meal (a little romance), and while we ate we enjoyed a particularly pinkish sunset from our big dining room window (a beautiful setting). Now if only I could get that effing pinning done I'd have a fine costume for dinner tomorrow.